


Sorry

by GatitoAtigrado (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Friend Trio, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love, probably hard to understand what's going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GatitoAtigrado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of them kissed the other. The third came home early and saw everything. It wasn't supposed to go like this.</p><p>Fill for a kinkmeme request: "Each of the Bad Friends Trio is in love with the one of his two friends who doesn't love him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my personal experience

 

 

Francis sat in his favourite armchair, book in lap, staring at the words that failed to make sense ever since… ever since it happened. Gilbert was probably out with Arthur, drinking away his brain and trying to forget in another’s arms. Understandable, _n'est-ce pas_?  
  
And Antonio was… Francis sighed, squeezing his eyes shut to will away the dampness behind his eyelids. Antonio was cooking. French food, trying to make Francis feel better. It was a clear message, _I’m sorry I’m sorry_ \- as if pity would make it hurt any less.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Antonio was supposed to kiss back, with all the passion that he was, or shove and slap him away when their lips met in that terrible, stunning, perfect moment. But he just raised a hand, slowly, up to Francis’ cheek, and whispered those awfully hollow words, _I’m sorry I’m sorry_ , into the space between their breaths.

* * *

  
Antonio tried to remain cheerful, because nothing really happened, things would go back to normal in no time. Or so he hoped. Francis gave him an incredulous look when he announced he was going to cook dinner, but he just laughed, saying he needed a distraction. That was him coping, forever trapped behind the mask of his smile, his well-proven shield.  
  
Secretly, he yearned for _freedom_. He was aching for a wild, untamed force, one that came and went like the wind, and always, always struck Antonio breathless with wonder. He wanted Gilbert, his mischievous, carefree friend who never failed to see the next adventure and often got in trouble for living in the moment. Gilbert, who seemed to hide none of his emotions, instantly saying what was on his mind, getting punched for it didn’t matter. Except, Antonio thought bitterly, for the one thing he managed to keep in secret all this time.  
  
When Francis kissed him earlier that evening, the surprise caused a second of confusion and by the time Antonio realised what was happening, it was already over. Only faint warmth and the lingering taste of _crêpe_ remained from the touch of those lips, from that silk-like softness. The scent of expensive cologne and lavender shampoo filled his nose as Francis’ gentle eyes stared at him expectantly, stabbing Antonio with guilt. He couldn’t push his best friend away. So he apologized, knowing that he was the one who felt the wrong thing again and that maybe he should pretend to feel otherwise, like he always did. But before he could make up his mind, a horrified voice cut through the room.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?”

* * *

  
At first, Gilbert didn’t know where he was going. All he knew that he was running, away from that scene, away from that hurt. They talked – yelled, in his case – and came clean at least. Francis loved Antonio. And Gilbert… well, he would survive. Somehow. Or not. Who cared? Who gave a damn fuck about him, the German college dropout, brother of one and only Dr.Beilschmidt? Not Francis, that’s for sure.  
  
When they first met, Gilbert swore he saw an angel. Francis was sitting at a table in one of the library study rooms, under the sunlight filtering through the smudged glass of the window, shining golden hair framing his face. He looked so pure and delicate, so breathtakingly beautiful, that it took Gilbert ten whole minutes to get together his awesomeness and walk over to him. As it turned out, pure was something only he could associate with Francis and delicate didn’t quite fit either after seeing him fight with Arthur, but beautiful… God, _that_ he really was.  
  
“Bollocks! Beilschmidt, you reek of sweat.” Oh. So he was running to Arthur’s apartment. That… that made some sense actually.  
  
“Night, Artie. Wanna drink?”

* * *

  
After half an hour or so, Antonio concluded that no matter how much food he cooked or how many dirty dishes he cleaned, it couldn’t help him in the moment. What they admitted today, all three of them, was more than what he could cope with. Gilbert apparently loved Francis. Always did, he said. Antonio wisely kept his mouth shut, but his eyes were glued to Gilbert the whole time of the confession. It hurt, deeply, but not as much as it hurt to see him leave.  
  
“You didn’t have to do that.” Francis said after they ate their dinner in tense silence.  
  
“I wanted to.” He knew French food couldn’t make Francis feel much better, but he tried at least.  
  
“Leave the dishes tonight, we both need a good rest and you look tired. Come on, I’ll –“  
  
“Don’t fucking baby me!” Antonio snapped, immediately cursing his crumbling self-restraint. He closed his eyes momentarily, then turned back to the sink.  
  
“Sorry, Franny. You know how Gil gets when he sees a mess, so…”  
  
“He won’t come back.”  
  
The plate in his hand dropped into the sink. Francis had to be wrong. Yes, Gilbert said he was moving out and left, but his things were in his room and the motorcycle was still in the garage, shiny and gorgeous, next to Antonio’s battered car. He would surely come back for those and Antonio would wait for him.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
_I love you, Francis. Never loved anybody else._ – It rang in Antonio’s head.  
  
“Ludwig called. He said he would take his brother’s things tomorrow. Gilbert won’t come back, Antonio.”

* * *

  
“He kissed Antonio.” Gilbert cried into his drink, unashamed of the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Francis kissed him, I saw it.”  
  
“That bloody frog!” Arthur growled next to him, slurring from all the alcohol he already consumed. “Forget that slem-… selm-… slimy creeeeature.”  
  
“I can’t.” Gilbert muttered and buried his face in his hands. “I love him.”  
  
He never quite had a heartbreak this bad. Maybe it would kill him and do a favour to the world. Frankly, it would do one to Gilbert too.  
  
“Let’s fuck.” Arthur suggested eloquently, swiping off his drink from the table.  
  
“Sorry.” Gilbert replied, knocked back his shot and stood, wobbling a little, without sparing a glance at his companion. “I’m going home.”  
  
“Waaait. What?” Arthur squinted at him, eyes crossing for a second. “Francine is gonnnna be therrre.”  
  
Gilbert shook his head, wiping the wetness from his puffy eyes. “No. I mean, I’m going home. To Luddi.”

* * *

 

“It’s my fault!” Antonio bawled like a child in Francis’ arms, thoughts and body and emotions out of control. “You love me, but I love him and he…”

  
“Yeah, that’s… a little messed up.” Francis confirmed, stroking his friend’s curly locks.  
He was sitting on the floor where he rushed to when Antonio collapsed. The tiles under him were cold, hard and increasingly uncomfortable, but there was no way Antonio could move at the moment, so he closed his eyes and leaned back against the kitchen cabinet with a resigned sigh.  
  
“Are you going to leave too?” Antonio clutched at his shirt in desperation, soaking it with his tears and soapy wet hands.  
  
“No, _mon ami_. I’ll stay with you.”  
  
But in all honesty, he didn’t know. Could he stay and live with that? Carry on with the knowledge that however much Antonio needed him as a friend he would never want him as a lover?  
  
“Can’t we… can’t we just go back and pretend today didn’t happen?”  
  
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Antonio sobbed louder at that and Francis was getting close to panic. He was running out of comforting methods. As a last-ditch effort he started singing a lullaby his mother taught him back in old, lovely France, and miraculously, it helped. The weeps quieted, Antonio’s hands released Francis’ shirt in favor of his hands, and soon enough he was sleeping like a baby in Francis’ lap.  
  
“Yes, I’ll stay.” Francis whispered to himself, more sure of it now. He would stay and repair what had been damaged and help Gilbert come to terms with things too. It wouldn’t be easy, but he knew it was possible with time.  
  
They were best friends after all – however big of an obstacle life brought, they were going to get through it - together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. Please leave some feedback, I'm interested in your opinion. :)


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